


First Dance

by inelegantly (Lir)



Series: SWAG 2016 Fills [24]
Category: Love Live! School Idol Project
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Ballroom Dancing, F/F, Fairy Tale Elements, Guardswoman Umi, Princess Eli, Royalty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-31 17:24:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6479437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lir/pseuds/inelegantly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Umi was never meant to be at the royal ball. She attends only at the insistence of her fairy best friends, intending to remain nothing more than a wallflower. But then she's asked to dance by a noble lady, dressed in the popularized attire of princes and choosing to speak with Umi out of all the possible people in the room. If it were a gentleman caller, Umi might have known how to say no. From this girl, all she can do is helplessly take the stranger's hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Dance

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the sports anime winter games, for the prompt: "Umi is a proper daughter of the guard, strong and unyielding. She isn't supposed to be at the ball. She wasn't supposed to be spirited here by her nosy fairy best friends with no sense for propriety. She absolutely is not supposed to be picked out by the princess herself for a dance."

-

"Knock 'em dead!" Honoka calls out, pushing Umi hard in the back so that she stumbles out into the corridor leading toward the ballroom. 

"Have a good time!" Kotori adds, giving Umi a far more gentle nudge. "Remember, you're wearing a full skirt! It's not like armor, so turn wide!" 

For a moment, Umi considers snapping back at both of them. She isn't a noble of the sort who is expected to come to royal balls or fancy-dress social gatherings. Her family comes from sterner stock than that, well-practiced with swords and deadly with a bow. The mere idea of moving through dance steps, making small talk, _not insulting her betters,_ sends a nasty chill to coursing down Umi's spine. 

But she can't snap at Honoka and Kotori — they're fairies, and Umi had learned long ago that shouting at people no one else could see was a quick way to earn herself the wrong kind of attention. 

"Alright, alright," she mutters, making sure to murmur the words under her breath. "I'm going." 

Honoka and Kotori smile at her from outside the grand arch leading into the room, though after that one parting glance, Umi spares them not another look. Kotori's advice isn't entirely misplaced; Umi is used to moving in far less restrictive clothing than the ballgown Kotori had whipped together for her and it's only by remembering to walk slowly and let the business of her skirts sort itself out as she goes that Umi avoids falling flat on her face. 

There are a few nobles standing near the entrance way when Umi walks in. Most of them are from the older set; distinguished gentlemen with a bit of gray in their hair and a bit of a paunch around their middle, gracefully aging ladies cleverly applying makeup to disguise their increasing wrinkles. Umi moves past them, not prepared to make conversation directly with those landed folk whose taxes pay her salary. 

Closer to the center of the room are the knots of young people, groups of noble girls clustered together with young gentleman orbiting their fringes like satellites, or forming up into their own small bands to chat over tiny plates of finger food and glasses of wine. Though it's a dance, Umi has arrived just in time; she can see the royal orchestra tuning up off in one corner in preparation to play the music for the first dance. 

Looking at all of it, Umi can only think how much she doesn't belong. 

It was Honoka and Kotori's idea, to send Umi to the ball. Umi herself can only guess at what they were plotting, tittering together and shooting her pleased little looks. But just as Umi had learned not to shout at them when other people were around, she learned equally well not to interfere in Honoka's scheming. She'd tried plenty, when they were younger. All of her attempts to bring Honoka to heel had only ended in dramatic disaster. 

As the opening bars of the orchestra's warm-up tune drift out over the crowd, Umi hurries along to the refreshments table, eager to get out of the way before the dancing begins. She spends a long moment staring helplessly at the expensive food, before she hears more than sees someone cut in at her side. 

"Are you here alone?" the person asks. 

Umi looks up, into a pretty face that does not entirely match the dapper black of the person's attire. For a moment Umi is confused, attempting to match the high, gentle voice of her caller against a suit cut in the style only just becoming popular in court, understated in color but just as dripping with lace from the collar and sleeves as the clothing might be if worn by most foolish of fops. On her caller, though, every lace hanky and ribbon looks perfectly deserving of its place. 

"Ah, that is... Yes," Umi manages to say, her voice sticking in her throat from the surprise of having to _use_ it. 

"The dancing will begin soon. I expect that someone who cuts as fine a portrait as you do will see no lack of invitations to dance, once that happens." 

"I can't help but think otherwise," Umi says, glancing away. "There are better people, more worthy of asking." 

"I disagree," her caller says, offering her hand. "If it isn't so bold of me, I would like the pleasure." 

For a moment, Umi simply stares at the woman's outstretched palm, soft and plump just as she'd expect a noble lady's to be. But there's something about this girl, dressed in the popularized attire of princes, choosing to speak with Umi of all people when she has no lack of peers more obviously from her station. If it were a gentleman caller, Umi might have known how to say no. From this girl, all she can do is helplessly take the stranger's hand.

"I was hoping you'd agree," the woman confides, fingers closing firmly around Umi's hand and tugging her forward, back toward the center of the floor. 

The orchestra has played through their warm up, and the music for the first dance then begins to play. Even Umi recognizes the tune, one some of the other guards often whistle on their rounds. They've made up all sorts of vulgar words to go along with it, but Umi's mother used to sing to her the original, whose words made for a far more haunting tune. 

Her companion whisks Umi out into the very center of the room, sweeping her along so her skirts swirl as they spin about until they're facing each other, palm to palm. The woman's hand settles at Umi's waist before sliding up her back to more easily direct Umi along; Umi places her hand at the shoulder of the woman's suit jacket, knowing just enough to lightly grip onto her bicep. 

It takes her almost a full minute, to realize that they are the only dancers on the floor.

"What's going on?" Umi whispers, nervously, to her dance partner. "Why isn't anyone else joining us? They're all looking at us!" 

"That is what tends to happen," the woman tells her, "during the first dance of a royal ball. It is the princess' right, to choose whom she might like to dance with, and to conduct that dance alone." 

Umi makes a small, despairing moan low in her throat, trying not to sob outright at the word _princess._ Being a member of the guard, she'd heard tales of her country's heir, but being common, she'd never had any expectation of meeting the woman. It was easier to believe them fairy tales, fanciful stories to be told while on shift and not likely to be true at all — no royal could be like those tales, not in reality. 

As princess Eli gently whisks Umi around the floor, a gentle touch at her shoulder or push against her hand all she requires to guide Umi where she wants her to go, Umi realizes, _yes, yes this royal can be very much like the gossip has told!_

"I didn't realize," Umi breathes out, mortified. "I didn't know." 

"Don't worry," Eli tells her. "That is very much the impression that I'd gotten, but I thought it would be too much of a shame, not to take the opportunity and ask." 

"Why me?" Umi asks. 

"Why not?" Eli returns. "I know everyone else in this hall, and I've danced with many of them before. Why not do something different? You looked as if you could use the excitement." 

She says that, but even as the words leave her mouth the music is slowing, transitioning into the holding tune used as an invitation to dancers before seguing into the next song. Eli brings her into a simple box-step, waltzing them slowly back and forth in the same place, barely moving. 

"Do you regret it?" Eli asks her.

Part of Umi wants to take the opportunity to run away, wants to insist that the dance is over and that she would very much not like to stick around for the next one. That part of her has had more than enough excitement. But... Honoka and Kotori had been most excited to send her to the dance for a reason, and the _remaining_ part of Umi is having so much difficulty denying this. 

"I'd rather not be watched by this many people," she says instead, falling back on the reprieve of truth, "but... no, I don't think I regret coming to the dance after all." 

-

-


End file.
